


Fire Meet Gasoline

by x_Medusa_x



Category: Overwatch (Video Game), overwatch
Genre: Angst, Developing Relationship, Eventual Smut, F/F, Fluff, Trans!Moira, cw for mild transphobia in the first chapter, questionable morals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-07 03:52:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12832719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/x_Medusa_x/pseuds/x_Medusa_x
Summary: With the Omnic Crisis over, Blackwatch Agent Marigold heads to the team celebrations, insistent that Moira join her.When the younger woman discovers that some of their colleagues are less than kind about Moira's gender identity, she takes matters into her own hands, reminding the older woman that she doesn't have to go it alone.





	1. Chapter 1

It was a whim that made her check the lab. As far as Marigold was concerned, everyone had already headed up to the common area, keen to socialise, drink, and most importantly, watch the coverage of the end of the omnic crisis together. 

She had almost walked right past the Blackwatch laboratory, hidden and secure below ground. The lights, however, were still on at full capacity, rather than the dimmed versions that indicated vacancy. 

Keying in her passcode to the touch pad, Marigold wrinkled her nose. Only one person would be fixated on science enough to be still down here, though Mara honestly hadn't expected her to work through something so important. 

"You know the war's over, right?" As intimidating as the older woman was, in height and demeanour, Mara found it easier to simply be herself with everyone. 

"I'm working." Standard reply, really. 

"Both departments have merged for a party. You should at least make an appearance. Everyone's going to be there."

"That's the last thing I could possibly want to do. In fact I think that tops even sticking my bad arm into a radioactive chamber. Again." There was no doubting the older woman had done some dangerous stuff in the name of science and research. 

Mara didn't understand, though. 

"I know you don't? See eye to eye? With a lot of the Overwatch team, but it could still be fun? What could possibly be so bad? Are you really that afraid of what they think of your research?" Surely that was it. Mara admittedly perhaps saw the older woman through a different light, but she wasn't quite certain what could make the generally calm, arrogant scientist rattled. 

"It's not about that." The redhead smoothed her labcoat, "the last thing I need or want is Morrison and his brass buddies staring all damn night, nudging each other when they think I'm not looking."

It took the younger a moment to understand. 

"Because you're-?" The fact that Moira had been born the wrong gender was never really a topic of discussion amongst the Blackwatch team. It didn't really matter to anybody that some of her parts didn't match her preferred pronouns and name. It especially didn't matter to Marigold, who probably would have liked her regardless. 

"Mm." The response was a noncommittal noise and bitter wrinkle of the nose. 

"Well in that case you definitely have to come. You have every right to be there, don't let a few small minded idiots-" 

The elder of the pair smirked a little at that; Marigold did such a good job at obeying the rules and the authority of the commanding officers. It was therefore amusing to hear the younger woman trash talk the highest ranking of all. 

"And besides, I can't turn up late by myself." The younger finished. 

Oh, clever. Perhaps the younger was more cunning than she gave her credit. Was that a proposition? 

"People will talk." It was hardly convincing when she was already slinging her labcoat over her chair, smoothing her shirt before swapping the white coat for an elegant suit jacket. 

"Let them." It was quite cute, actually, Marigold in all her five-foot-fuck-all, fierce even in a sweater and high-waisted jeans. She supposed she would humor the girl; at the very least there would be alcohol. She could really, really use a drink. 

\---

It struck Mara at the last moment how shabby she was in comparison to her last-minute companion. Sure, her clothes were expensive - when you lived in a uniform, you could afford nice civilian clothes - but the sweater-and-jeans combo was a little dull in comparison. Then again, she reminded herself, Moira was the sort of woman who walked around in a suit even when she was elbow-deep in gore. 

At least the silence was comfortable, rather than awkward, as they walked along the hallway from the elevator to the large common area. 

"Last chance to run." The redhead muttered, though neither party were certain as to who she spoke. 

Mara very much wanted to comment on how she would hurt anyone who so much as looked at them wrong, but she knew it was pointless. The taller woman was more than capable of fighting her own battles; some prejudices couldn't be stopped with science experiments or telekinetic abilities. Anything anyone said or did would sting, regardless of whether Mara pulled them up on it. 

\---

Thankfully nobody in particular seemed to notice the pair of late arrivals. An even more convenient blessing was the proximity from the door to Jesse McCree and Genji Shimada. 

Neither were particular fond of Moira, nor she of them, but she knew the younger woman accompanying her enjoyed their companionship, and so she allowed herself to be led over to them. 

At least with the two other Blackwatch agents, they would mostly be ignored. The last thing she wanted was the attention of Morrison, or any of the other Overwatch brass who would undoubtedly make a thinly veiled comment. 

Briefly she wondered how difficult it would be to get one of them into her lab. That was to say if the woman who had her hand comfortably tucked into her arm didn't make their heads explode first. Raw telekinetic energy. A rarity, even moreso when it was a natural occurrence. She'd seen the woman level a building before. 

Of course, she wasn't immune to the emotions the younger woman held for her. She simply neither encouraged nor discouraged them. Of course her research came first, but she also felt an odd desire to protect the younger woman from any discrimination that would undoubtedly come, should they begin any sort of relationship. 

Undoubtedly the younger woman would be able to handle herself just fine; the elder simply hoped that her decision to accompany her tonight wouldn't come back to haunt the younger with regret. 

As it was, if she allowed herself to disengage from the calculations eternally processing in her brilliant mind, she found she rather enjoyed the company of the younger woman, and it was for her sake that she engaged in conversation with the cyborg and the cowboy. 

It was nice, having the younger woman there, almost an anchor, a reminder that at least somebody would back her in a hostile moment. 

\---

As the night progressed, the pair found themselves momentarily separated; Ana Amari had snagged Marigold's attention on the way back from the bathroom, intent on discussing the biotic healing injections deployed with their soldiers. 

"With the war over, we won't need to send as many with our soldiers for personal usage, but don't you think we should send a higher quantity to help with the civilian casualty rate?"

To Mara, it seemed like a grand idea, but all deployment rations for Overwatch soldiers was decided by Angela Ziegler, not her. 

"That's a question for Angela, Captain," Mara said truthfully; she had noticed Morrison approaching her companion, and a spike of anxiety coursed through her. 

"I suppose you're right." Ana followed her gaze, "you be careful with that one, won't you?" 

There was no double meaning behind her tone, just a genuine warning, so Mara simply nodded before they parted ways, anxious to provide cover for her companion. 

\---

"So, does she know?" As ways of beginning a conversation went, this one was particularly shitty. Then again, Moira was used to Morrison having a shitty attitude with her. 

"Of course. Not that it matters, to her anyway." She briefly worried that her passive aggression would irritate the older man, that there would be some sort of scene. 

Why hadn't she just stayed in the fucking lab where nobody cared what was between her legs and nobody questioned her. She was in the process of cursing herself and potentially growing rather anxious with the situation when a smaller hand found hers and squeezed lightly. 

"Is everything alright here?" The edge in Marigold's tone was plain as day. The Strike Commander didn't exactly fear the girl, but he knew what she was capable of, and her tone was clear: this one is mine. Back off, or else. 

"Indeed." The moment Moira spoke the word, she regretted it. Marigold wasn't stupid, and recognised the lie. Of course things weren't fine. But it wasn't worth the trouble. She also mildly wished to see the younger woman chide the commander for his comments. 

"Good, now if you'll excuse us, Commander Morrison, we have important work to do." Marigold didn't have to tell her twice; she'd been aching to leave the gathering since their arrival, and a few whiskeys and some food had only mildly dimmed the desire. 

\---

The younger didn't speak again until they were in the elevator. 

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have left you alone."

"Don't be stupid, Marigold. I'm a grown woman, I can handle bigotry. I do appreciate someone defending me, though." She didn't often show what she perceived as weakness through emotion, but she was truly grateful for the girl's company. 

"I didn't realise-"

"Of course you didn't, and it's not your job to do so. This research, however?" The idea of new knowledge always perked her up. 

"An excuse, unfortunately. I'm not the genius here." 

"You flatter me." The redhead led the shorter woman back towards the lab; of course that was where she headed first. It was her safe zone. Everything in there was a controlled variable. 

"Hush. Can we at least drink in the lab?" 

"Naturally. You know me too well." She often kept food and beverages in a bar fridge; that way she rarely had to leave the lab. 

"A great privilege." The younger smiled almost fondly as the elder woman discarded her suit jacket, practically flopping into her usual chair. 

"Flattery again." 

"Maybe that'll stop you from turning me into a guinea pig." The younger woman passed a glass of whiskey over. 

"I would never do that. You're my favorite." Oh god, had that been out loud? Maybe the fresh whiskey wasn't a good idea. However, to save awkwardness, she ended up draining the glass, rather than looking to the other woman for her reaction.


	2. Chapter 2

Marigold wasn't too sure that she had heard the other woman correctly. Any sort of affection or emotion from Moira was rare; as such the admission was perceived as out of character, but not unwelcome. 

For once, however, the younger woman struggled to find a witty or smartass retort. The admission had entirely stumped her; the redhead was an elegant genius, somewhere in between handsome and beautiful, and the younger woman had never expected anything more than tolerance from her, certain her own emotions made her an annoyance. 

On the contrary, the older woman found the younger's presence reassuring. An unspoken reminder that she had backup. The younger woman didn't care what she had been born as, or who she truly identified as. Hell, she didn't even care about the morally questionable experiments that went on in this very room. The younger simply liked and cared for her, in basic things such as refilling her caffeine supply, or putting herself at risk of the rumour mill just to back her up. 

She hadn't quite realised that perhaps she did need that sort of relationship until now, as she considered the shorter, younger woman sitting across from her. An outcast, like herself, but softer, kinder. 

"I guess that's why you tolerated my friends, then." Marigold's light comment made it plain that she had taken the admission as a throwaway comment. The redhead didn't blame her- after all it was not in her nature to be emotive. 

"I tolerate your friends because they are yours." The scientist corrected, "and because they were polite." 

That was true, especially the first half. It was becoming evident that the younger woman was an exception to Moira's usual disinterest in people, especially where relationships were concerned. 

As it was, Marigold wasn't sure what to say. Drinking seemed like an acceptable way to fill the moment, and perhaps quell her wayward thoughts. 

The elder of the pair watched the younger; it was clear the latter wasn't sure what to say or do. It was the first time the scientist had seen the younger woman awkward or speechless. 

"Cat got your tongue?" Whilst she waited for the younger to speak, the redhead poured another generous measure of whiskey into her glass. She was barely intoxicated, but the lack of edge certainly made this easier. 

"I just don't understand why people care so much about what parts other people have." Marigold said finally, toying with her own empty glass, "it's nobody's business, but people seem so bothered by it." 

"And yet you don't." It was a self serving question, and the redhead knew it, but after the wayward comment from Morrison, she certainly needed the reassurance that the younger woman didn't care about her birth gender. 

"Well of course not." Marigold scoffed, "I don't care what parts people have. I like all kinds of people." 

That was true; she wouldn't have cared what gender the older woman identified as or what parts she had. She still would have liked her anyway, for her genius, ambition, and personality. She was like nobody Marigold had ever met before, and therefore her gender didn't matter whatsoever. 

For a brief moment, the redhead wanted to question the younger's sanity. She wasn't exactly the warmest or fuzziest person, so why the younger woman was so set on caring about her was still a mystery. On the other hand, she found herself suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to hold and protect the younger woman. 

Odd. She supposed, with her hyperfixation on her work, she hadn't really had time to form any kind of conscious affection for anybody, not that she really did affection. She was far too clinical for public displays of affection, but she supposed this desire was the extent of it. 

"Are you gonna say anything?" The anxiety in the younger woman's voice was evident; had she crossed a line? The last thing she wanted was to make the elder feel uncomfortable, forced into a situation she didn't want to be in. 

Thankfully that was not the case. Although the redhead didn't say anything, she did make a beckoning motion. It was an imperious enough gesture that Marigold didn't dare disobey, not that she probably would have anyway. 

Admittedly, Morrison's sly comments were still tapping on the redhead's skull, an unpleasant reminder that some people were not as at ease with her gender expression as she was. Whilst she was tough, the comments had stirred a slight amount of dysphoria, negative feelings that had improved immensely since she had transitioned, but still reared their ugly heads whenever she was reminded that some people would never see her for who she was. 

The only thing preventing the emotions from becoming a full scale problem was the younger woman in front of her, solid, tangible, entirely real proof that not everyone would judge her. Of course, she wondered whether that would still apply if things progressed to a sexual nature, but she doubted Marigold would allow the situation to progress if she wasn't comfortable with everything. 

She just hoped beyond hope that the younger woman would understand her hesitation to strip down, if it came to that. Whilst she was arrogant and calm about her intellectual breakthroughs, this was entirely different, and she needed to utterly trust somebody before that happened. Whilst she liked Marigold, trusted her enough to let her this close, it would be a while. 

Alcohol had clouded both their minds. Marigold would never have thought that she would be practically straddling a woman almost a decade her senior. Sure, she would have thought about it, but never considered it would come to fruition. 

In the moment, however, both just needed something. Affection. Someone to hold onto. Proof that neither had to be so echoingly lonely. The elder of the pair was always buried so deep in her work that she rarely gave human interaction a second glance; she wasn't a machine, though; of course she needed human affection and emotion at times. Until Marigold however, she hadn't really found anybody who didn't irritate her enough to really spend time with. 

The comments from before had left her rattled; to be honest having someone simply touching her arm made her feel a little better; living proof that she wasn't what the bad thoughts sometimes made her believe. She wasn't wrong, or screwed up, or anything anyone ever had to say. How could she be, if someone cared about her with so little judgment? 

"Hey? Earth to Moira? What's going on in that brilliant mind?" 

She didn't want to know, Moira decided, telling her would ruin everything. There would be time to talk about the affect of transphobia on her mind later. Right now, god, she just wanted to sink into the other woman, become one person, lose her mind in the younger woman, entirely absorbed by her. 

She could consider the reasons behind such desires later. 

"Don't ask so many questions." It was a gentle rebuke, rather than an irritated one. She was sick of talking right now, was all. 

\--

Marigold honestly for a brief moment thought that perhaps she was dreaming. Had she passed out drunk or something? How embarrassing that would be, to pass out in front of somebody she admired, desired, and cared for. 

Surely, this had to be a dream? Maybe she had been drugged and this was a hallucination. The fact that the older woman did seem to be interested in her was just so unlikely in the younger's mind. 

Honestly, she struggled to believe it was reality until the elder of the pair tugged her close by her hair, fully set on making her intentions clear. There had been too much hesitation for her taste, and Moira was not one to hesitate. 

It had been a while since Marigold had kissed anybody, let alone another woman. It was surprisingly comfortable, despite her internal freak out at the fact that she was actually doing this. She liked to imagine this situation often, but actually being involved in it was a totally different reality. 

It was nice to feel a bit normal again, just a woman kissing someone she liked.


	3. Chapter 3

Somehow, in the time that had passed since the pair had begun their embrace and the present moment, Marigold's dress had become hiked up around her waist. Neither of the women seemed to mind the somewhat indecent situation, though, too focused on the other. 

Somewhere in the space of a few moments, Moira's expensive silk tie was discarded to the pristine laboratory floor, shirt unbuttoned, lipstick prints where Marigold had kissed staining her skin. 

Around that point, the redhead's slightly more animalistic side kicked in; the younger woman's dress was further lifted, soft lace panties toyed with as the pair kissed again. 

"The question here is whether I should ruin these, or take them off first." Moira was already in the process of considering said hypothesis, slim fingers tracing the lace, one slipping inside the material. 

Marigold blushed a pretty red at the intimate touch, a soft sound escaping her lips as the older woman bit down on her collarbone lightly. 

She could just push the flimsy material out the way, Moira decided; she didn't want to waste any more time. The younger woman's defense of her had awoken some deep-seated need for intimate contact within her. 

"Wait-" the younger woman's smaller hand gripped her wrist gently, preventing her fingers from further exploring. 

"Is something wrong, sweetling?" Moira hoped beyond hope that the younger woman wasn't about to have doubts, regrets about her - in her opinion - mismatched parts.

"No, I just- are you going to be alright with this? It won't make you dysphoric, will it?" The genuine concern in the younger woman's tone softened the older woman's worry immediately. 

"No, pet, it's fine. I wouldn't let it get this far if it would be bad for me." Her fingers circled the younger woman's soft skin; she was pleased to find wetness there. "Just relax, alright? Stop worrying about me." 

Marigold might have replied, but at that moment the redhead chose to slip a long finger into her wetness, rendering any spoken words into a soft noise of approval. Moira kissed her then, a slow, deep kiss that matched the steady pace of her fingers. 

She wanted more, to take her time; to lay the younger woman down on her desk and kiss her in every intimate place until she was a trembling mess. Another time. They were both far too needy to take things slowly this time, driven by a deeply buried desire for one another that they had kept hidden for too long. 

The fingers that had been inside the younger woman were soaked when she withdrew them; kissing Marigold soundly, she made short work of the buttons of her own pants, slowly stroking her aching sex as the younger woman kissed her hungrily. 

"Are you sure you want this?" It was one last chance, one last way out as Moira saw it. 

"I want you." Marigold answered simply, her fingers entwined into brilliant orange hair. 

Her moan of approval was muffled by the passionate kiss the older woman enveloped her in as she slowly pressed inside the younger woman's wetness; as Marigold tightened around her, Moira kissed every inch of the younger woman that she could reach; her cheeks, her lips, her collarbones, her nipples. 

The younger woman was mostly incoherent, but for soft sounds and whimpers of the other's name. The laboratory was quiet, only the gentle hum of machinery and the indecent sounds of their coupling filling the silence. 

With each slow roll of the older woman's hips, Marigold placed a kiss to her lover's body; faded lilac lipstick prints stained the redhead's collarbone, throat, and breasts. 

"Tell me how this feels, sweetling." Although the redhead's voice was soft, it was more of a demand than a request. She was trying so, so hard to be gentle with the younger woman. 

"So good... please..." 

She could feel the wetness of the younger woman, the tightness, the way her breath was catching. 

"You're so close, pet. You're so good to me," Moira practically purred the words, "you know you can come for me, sweetling, whenever you're ready." 

That certainly did it; the younger woman practically sobbed with relief as she reached her climax, her shaking body weak in the older woman's arms. 

The redhead kissed her exhausted lover gently, her own release so wonderfully close. The warmth and tightness following Marigold's release was just too much, and momentarily, with a low moan, Moira buried her face in the younger woman's hair, overwhelmed with a wonderful pleasure. 

It was so satisfying for Marigold, to know that her body was the source of such pleasure to a woman she adored. 

"Was that- did I do okay?" 

"Oh, sweetling, you did wonderfully." The redhead kissed her gently on the forehead, "let's get you cleaned up, shall we?" 

It was strangely intimate, to have her lover help her clean up. That was not an experience Marigold was used to. As it was, she was half expecting to be sent away at any moment, so it surprised her even more when her lover pulled her close again, carrying her into a small room just off the main laboratory. 

It wasn't much; a double bed with a small bathroom attached, but it explained why Moira was rarely in her actual assigned room. 

"Stay with me tonight?" The redhead set the younger woman down on the bed, exhausted herself, flopping down beside her. 

Marigold curled up against the other woman, kissing her gently. 

"I'll always stay with you."

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah this is the first work featuring my OC, more background will come for her later. This is just shipping trash.


End file.
